


A Guide to Figuring Out Your Archers

by PaxieAmor



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: But you have to look really hard., Go Easy On Me, I've never written this pairing before, M/M, Mentions of Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 06:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxieAmor/pseuds/PaxieAmor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton was hard to get a read on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Guide to Figuring Out Your Archers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marchingjaybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchingjaybird/gifts), [flatbear (duffnstuff)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/duffnstuff/gifts).



> For Nicki and Mary, and Ladynorthstar on tumblr =D
> 
> Inspired by [this post from Ask a S.H.I.E.L.D Agent](http://askashieldagent.tumblr.com/post/21368899184/they-key-is-to-distract-him-with-something)

Bruce Banner admittedly kept weird hours and knew full well that the only reason he wasn’t called on it was because people were worried about making him angry. It worked to his benefit, really. He occasionally used this leverage for good, telling others to stop bothering Tony about getting out of the shop, as the billionaire genius was helping him run some tests. It was an all-out lie, of course, but let’s be honest, who was going to call him on it?

“So why do you keep covering for Stark?” Ah; Barton. Clint Barton would call him on it, wouldn’t he?

“It’s not ‘covering’,” Bruce replied, looking away from his microscope. The archer was leaning in the doorway, his muscular arms crossed in front of his chest, and his purple sunglasses pushed up on his forehead. A small grin curved the corner of his lips. It wasn’t a bad sight, really, Bruce decided. That didn’t make it any easier to get a read on the man however.

Bruce first ran into the agent during his first few days with SHIELD; the phrase ‘ran into’ should be taken literally in this case, as Barton had collided with Bruce in the hallway while trying to find the lab he had been assigned to. Barton had helped him to his feet, dusted him off and promptly fled before offering a name or any explanation for his actions.

Two seconds later, Agent Coulson rushed past Bruce; his (as far as Bruce knew) normally crisp white shirt was covered in pink splotches and he was carrying a taser. Bruce would later learn that Coulson allegedly had an entire survival kit designed for Agent Barton, which was said to contain, among other things, a ball gag and horse sedatives; Bruce has yet to decide if he wants to know more.

“Despite what you might think, Barton,” Bruce continued, “Tony actually _does_ help me with my research and experiments.”

“Tony is it?” Clint asked, sauntering into the room and sitting reversed in one of the chairs, his arms resting on the back. “Didn’t know you and he were so buddy-buddy; when’s the wedding?” Bruce rolled his eyes, going back to his microscope.

“Tony asked me to use his first name, Agent Barton, a request I have acquiesced to.”

“What’s with the fancy words, Captain Barbosa?”

“Those movies were horribly historically inaccurate.”

“You’ve seen them then?”

“Not the most recent one, I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Hiding from humanity and trying not to Hulk out.”

“I think Stark has it, if you want to, you know, watch it some time. With me.” Bruce looked away from his microscope, raising an eyebrow.

“Agent Barton, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah, I am.” The straightforwardness of his answer threw Bruce for a moment. “I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine…” Bruce watched as Barton ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it slightly as he rubbed the back of his head. He was incredibly adorable when he was flustered.

Bruce decided he wanted to see more.

“I’ll be done here around six, Agent Barton,” he told the archer. “Pick me up then?” Barton’s sheepish smile widened into a full grin.

“Sure thing!” He got up from his chair and _skipped_ out of the room, much to the amusement of Bruce. A moment later, he stuck his head back in. “Hey Bruce?”

“Yes?”

“Call me Clint.”


End file.
